


Meditation

by Dractonis



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Competition, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Meditation, Sulking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 22:15:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dractonis/pseuds/Dractonis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy gets tired of Novak ignoring him during meditation. If you can't beat them, join them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meditation

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a fictional story and did not happen, no implication is intended in regards to the real people involved.
> 
> I promised a happy story since the last one was so depressing, so here it is!

_You are breathing deeply and getting comfortable, completely letting go of any thoughts. As you relax, you begin to focus._

“Can’t believe those fucking wankers again!” Andy announces in outrage as he skulks into the living room, angrily tossing his phone against the sofa where it bounces a few times, eventually coming to rest against a smooth pillow.

Novak jolts as his eye twitches in irritation at the unwelcome interruption, fingernails digging into the fabric of his jogging pants as he glares daggers at the wall in front of him.

_You are relaxing, you can feel the tension fade away. Feel the breath flow in as you breathe deeply, breathing deeply. Exhaling and relaxing completely._

“....every single time. Hey, earth to Nole are you listening to me?”

Novak continues to ignore the interruption, closing his eyes and concentrating so hard he feels the beginnings of a headache ebbing into his skull from the strain. His focus is broken for a third time when what appears to be a rolled up ball of sweaty Adidas socks bounces off the back of his head.

“Ok that does it!” Novak declares in frustration as he stands up and rubs his clothes down, brushing away imaginary pieces of lint in the process and running long fingers through his thick hair.

“Oooo I’m sorry, did I interrupt your buddha shit again?” Andy mumbles from his place on the sofa, bare feet resting across its expanse as he lounges.

“For the last time it is not buddha shit Andy, it is meditation. I am reflecting, you wouldn’t understand.” Novak asserts dismissively, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Whatever, bet I could do it better than you if I wanted - which I don’t.” Andy shrugs before switching the TV on to watch the football.

“What do you think you’re doing? I was here first, come on man turn it off.” Novak whines, rooted in his spot on the opposite side of his living room where he’d previously been attempting to finish his daily meditation. His living room, which Andy is currently crashing during an impromptu ‘vacation’ in Monte Carlo.

“Hey, is that any way to treat a guest?”

“You are insufferable!” Novak throws the insult over his shoulder as he walks out of the room, slamming it behind him for good measure.

Andy grins and hums contently as he goes back to watching the football.

 

* * *

 

The next time Andy finds Novak (after he gets bored of being ignored), he’s sitting cross legged on his poster bed, limbs boneless and forehead absent of creases. He’s completely absorbed in the activity and doesn’t notice Andy’s graceless steps crossing the boundary of the master suite.

Novak’s conscious mind is however, vaguely aware of a slight dipping of the mattress when Andy’s considerable weight settles behind him, arms encircling a toned stomach and coming to rest there.

“Hey, I got bored.”

Andy’s legs are splayed out around Novak’s slighter frame, chin coming to rest in the crook of Novak’s neck as he places lazy kisses against the soft skin there.

Novak doesn’t respond, deep in meditation at this point and accustomed to blocking out the many external distractions he usually contends with in his bustling life. He feels calmness wash over him in this state, unperturbed by Andy's presence.

This state of mind can’t be extended to Andy, however, who is feeling both put out and irritable at his lover’s negligence. He nips at Novak’s neck to try to get his attention, failing again as the younger man simply shrugs him off.

Andy groans impatiently before smirking to himself, an idea coming to mind. He loosens his grip on Novak, bringing his right hand up slowly to caress Novak’s side, moving in gentle, circular motions. If he can’t distract Novak from his meditation, the least he can do is hurry it along and try to enhance the experience in the process.

Lost somewhere in a myriad of relaxed thoughts, Novak is appreciative of the comforting motions of Andy’s skilled hands across his body, movements unhurried and devoted. They add to the peaceful feeling he is swimming in as he concentrates on breathing slowly, deeply.

Andy eventually moves his rough hands to slide underneath Novak’s Uniqlo shirt, fulfilling his need for skin-on-skin contact as his fingers dance across golden abs. He keeps the pace slow and deliberate, trying not to make any abrupt movements which might break Novak’s focus.

Novak sighs contently from the treatment, leaning his head back to rest on Andy’s shoulder, weight supported by a broad chest. He feels himself sinking, moulding into the mattress and fitting into the concaves of Andy’s form like a jigsaw piece as hands manoeuvre across his body.

Andy leans forward again, beginning to add slow kisses to supplement the attention of his hands. His lips are warm against Novak’s neck, lavishing attention there as he sucks gently in between kisses, left hand rising to stroke across a waiting nipple. They’re both still clothed, something Andy becomes acutely aware of when the crotch of his jeans becomes uncomfortably tight.

A particular problem which is a result of the position of Novak’s ass against his groin, the soft sounds and longing breaths. At some point too Novak starts to feel less relaxed and more anxious, Andy’s hands teasing around the waistband of his jogging pants but going no further.

He lifts his hips gently, sucking a lip in for his teeth to grasp and wordlessly asking for Andy to give him more. Andy complies, hand trespassing an elastic waistband and sinking into tight briefs to palm Novak.

Novak is in heaven as Andy spreads his dripping thighs apart and takes him in hand, pushed up against his back and touching him all over. He leans down to lick the shell of Novak’s ear, inducing a shiver, before he whispers.

“Does this feel good? Tell me what it’s like.”

Novak groans at the thick Scottish accent delivering those words.

“It feels incredible… I feel amazing. So relaxed, feel so good. God I love you so much. Don’t stop.”

Andy chuckles and does the opposite, never one to disappoint Novak when it comes to sexual requests. He removes his free hand from Novak’s shirt to cup the side of Novak’s jaw, guiding his head around slowly to look at Novak’s face. His eyes are drawn closed, thick lashes fluttering and mouth parted slightly. He looks stunning, kissable, so Andy closes the distance and joins their lips.

Novak is drowning in sensations. A mixture of Andy’s warm hand stroking up and down the length of his cock, tongue massaging his, thumb running along the contours of his cheekbone. He’s floating amidst a state of deep meditation and arousal, revelling in the feeling of Andy’s hard body pressed up behind him.

“Andy…” Novak moans into Andy’s mouth, teeth biting down on chapped lips. Andy hums softly and licks across his own lips, wetting them as he opens his eyes once again to drink in the sight of the Serb.

“Yeah babe?”

“Mmmm, I’m close.”

“It’s ok, I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.” Andy is murmuring, voice seductively deep, heads resting together as his hand continues to stroke. Novak is breathing deeply, feeling on the verge of fainting from unfathomable relaxation and pleasure, transcending a level of comfort and warmth he’s never experienced before. He’s holding back, anticipating the wave of euphoria when Andy whispers gently for him to let go.

And he does.

When he regains his senses Andy is pulling his shirt off, Andy’s own straining pants following after unbuttoning them. He leans in quickly again to peck the side of Novak’s head before claiming, “told you I could do it better. Now, roll over and I’ll show you something else I’m good at.”


End file.
